


Thanos and the Infinity Laundry

by velvetjinx



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crack, Gen, I blame the RBB slack chat, thanos does laundry, that’s it that’s the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 06:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14490408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: If Thanos is going to conquer the universe, he’s gonna have to do his laundry.





	Thanos and the Infinity Laundry

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Thanos y la Colada Infinita](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504121) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account)



> This is mostly the fault of need, grav, chi and Elle. I HOPE YOURE ALL HAPPY. XD

Thanos had plans. Big plans. Galaxy conquering plans. 

Unfortunately, in order to conquer the galaxy, he needed enough galaxy conquering outfits to do him, and he was long past due to do his laundry. Time was, Gamora would have done it all for him, but she had pissed off leaving him in the lurch, and it wasn’t like Nebula could be trusted with something as delicate as his, well. Delicates. She was way too ham fisted. 

He went into the large space launderette, proclaiming that it was open until the end of the universe, which was useful given how much laundry he had. He put his basket on top of the biggest washing machine, only to realize he’d left his laundry soap on the ship.

Sigh.

He ended up using more quarters than he’d wanted buying a box of laundry soap from the vending machine, which seemed like it was going to eat the quarters until he banged it hard with one purple, wrinkled fist. The vending machine made a protesting sound, kind of like a Komodo dragon being fucked by an elephant, before finally spitting out the box of soap.

Box of soap in hand, he went back over to his basket, and began to sort his laundry into three machines: one for whites, one for colors, one for delicates. He held up his armor, wondering if it classed as ‘delicate’. He checked the inside and found a label.

_Made in Taiwan._   
_Do not machine wash_   
_Do not dry clean_   
_Do not open with knife_

The symbols began to get increasingly obscure, and even Thanos the ancient began to wonder if they were older than he was. He looked closely at the last one and his eyes widened.

“Spot clean only with a sponge?” he spluttered, outraged. “What is this shit? How the hell am I supposed to get blood off it?”

He sighed again. Gamora had been so good at this.

While puzzling this out, he went back to sorting through the laundry, finally filling the three machines. He put in the required amount of soap and set them to wash.

While he waited, he read his favorite ancient scroll, which prophesied the destruction of the universe at his hand. He chuckled as he read it. So great.

By the time he’d finished the scroll, the laundry was done. He took out the delicates first and put them in one of them dryers, setting it to a gentle heat. The colors were next. His whites…

Oh, shit.

He pulled the red sock out and sighed at the huge pile of pink. That was going to clash so bad with his skin tone. Maybe he could use some kind of color rescue? But there was none in the vending machine. Sure, there was a space where it should have been, but they were all out.

This was not Thanos’s day.

He figured he may as well dry them and figure out what to do later so he put the former whites into the dryer and paused as he checked his pockets.

He was out of quarters.

He went over to the change machine and put in a crumpled bill.

_Bzzzt. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzt. Bzzzzzzzzzzt._

“Just fucking take the bill!” Thanos bellowed, but the change machine just spat it back out. Great. He was going to have to carry his washing back with half of it still damp. And pink.

As for his armor, he had no idea what was going on there. Spot clean with a sponge his ass. He’d get one of his lackeys to do it when he got back to the ship. He put the former whites in first, then his armor, which would at least keep the damp laundry away from the dry.

It certainly felt like it must be the end of the universe by the time the dryers finished, and he folded the dry laundry as best he could, placing it on top of his armor. 

It was only then he realized that he’d put the colors in on too hot a cycle and several of the more delicate items had shrunk. 

Thanos threw it all into the laundry basket, disgusted. That was the last time he was doing his own laundry. Screw it. He obviously hadn’t been created for housework. 

As he carried the basket back to the ship, his thoughts went to his galaxy conquering plans, a seed of doubt planted. If he couldn’t even get his laundry right, maybe he'd better wait to conquer the universe. At least until he'd got the hang of some of the more basic chores.


End file.
